Old Stone Bridge

We stood there on the old stone bridge

As the whirls and ripples of the

Danube flew like kite ribbons in the wind

Beneath our feet and through the arches

We stopped to take a photo

The October sky was so blue that day

In the photo, more so, than I remember in reality.

We took trains to small villages

And discovered local delicacies.

We took stock of the leaves changing

Their colour, turning auburn , orange, red,

The riverbanks sang a chorus of colour

The water as constant as a clock

And we stood there, in a timeless moment -

On the old stone bridge.